DAISY. 145 



Cf A hundred times, by rock or bower, 

 Ere thus I have lain couched an hour, 

 Have 1 derived from thy sweet power 



Some apprehension ; . . 



Some steady love ; some brief delight ; 

 Some memory that had taken flight ; 

 Some chime of fancy, wrong or right ; 

 Or stray invention. 



" If stately passions in me burn, 

 And one chance look to thee should turn, 

 I drink out of an humbler urn 



A lowlier pleasure ; 

 The homely sympathy that heeds 

 The common life our nature breeds ; 

 A wisdom fitted to the needs 



Of hearts at leisure. 



" When, smitten by the morning ray, 

 I see thee rise alert and gay, 

 Then, cheerful flower ! my spirits play 



With kindred gladness : 

 And when, at dusk, by dews opprest 

 Thou sink'st, the image of thy rest 

 Hath often eased my pensive breast 

 Of careful sadness. 



" And all day long I number yet, 

 All seasons through, another debt, 

 Which I, wherever thou art met, 



To thee am owing; 

 An instinct call it, a blind sense ; 

 A happy genial influence, 

 Coming one knows not how nor whence, 



Nor whither going. 



" Child of the Year ! that round dost run 

 Thy course, bold lover of the sun, 

 And cheerful when the day 's begun 



As morning leveret, 

 Thy * long-lost praise thou shalt regain ; 



* See in Chaucer and the elder poets, the honours formerly paid to 

 this flower. 



